


(This is Not) Round Eight

by JustAGirl24



Series: Seven Rounds [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in a Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/pseuds/JustAGirl24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, fine, it is.</p>
<p>Jaime and Brienne. Heavy petting in a movie theatre. Mind the tags and ratings because--haven't we gone through this enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(This is Not) Round Eight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts).



> Just cuz she asked so nice.

In the darkness of the movie theatre, Jaime placed his hand on her knee.

"What are you doing?" she whispered indignantly, barely able to hear her own voice over the sound of exploding cars coming from the screen.

"You're hogging the armrest and I need to put my hand somewhere. This seemed a nice enough spot. Now shut up and watch the movie."

Brienne huffed and leaned back in her seat. There was a warm pressure on her knee as Jaime’s fingers gave a brief squeeze, and then—did he just—? Jaime’s hand was most definitely an inch higher up her thigh, his fingers rubbing circles on her leg.

_“Jaime,”_ she hissed, and he gave a low chuckle in response.

_“Brienne,”_ he mimicked, his breath warm in her ear, and she felt a tiny shudder go down her spine. She gave a last ditch effort.

“People will see,” she mumbled, squirming in her seat as his fingers trailed further up her thigh.

“Who?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You know, there’s a _reason_ why we’re seeing an action movie. On a Tuesday. In the middle of the day.” Brienne looked around and finally noticed the theatre was empty save for two older women in the front row, while Jaime had steered them to seats in a little alcove behind the stairs.

“I can’t believe I fell for that ‘better acoustics’ line,” she muttered.

“But aren’t you glad you did?” he murmured. She was all set to retort, but _oh,_ she had to stifle a gasp instead as his knuckles pressed against the seam of her jeans, the fingers of his other hand pinching her nipple through her shirt, his mouth pressing damp kisses just under her ear.

Well…it wasn’t that good of a movie anyway.

_“Jaime,”_ she breathed, her thighs falling open as she turned to meet his mouth with her own. She vaguely registered him lifting the armrest, pulling one leg over his knee. He loosened her button and zipper, his clever fingers working under the elastic of her panties, petting her. She gave a small whimper into his mouth as his tongue ran along hers, bucking against his hand, but he kept teasing her.

_“Jaime,”_ she growled softly, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand down another inch. The tip of his middle finger brushed back and forth at the top of her slit, working its way slowly between her labia. He finally brushed over her clit once, and she drew in a sharp breath, holding it in anticipation. _“Ooh,”_ she moaned quietly, half pleasure, half frustration as she felt each whorl of his fingertip against her, a soft pressure and nothing more.

As though through a fog, she felt Jaime’s hand leave her breast and find her own, pressing it against his cock, stiff through his jeans. _“Gods,_ Brienne,” he breathed. “Do you feel what you do to me?” She nodded blindly, frantically, squeezing the firm length of him beneath her palm. She felt that maddening fingertip start rubbing against her, slow and firm, dipping down to find the wetness gathering at her entrance, and spreading it over her clit. She muffled a sharp gasp as she felt one, then two fingers slide inside her, hips arching off the red velour seat. Brienne rubbed her palm over him erratically, running the backs of her knuckles against the outline of his thick cock as it strained against his zipper.

_“Oh, oh, oh,”_ she chanted, his fingers curling and rubbing inside her. He cut her off with a fierce, wet kiss. _Gods,_ it felt so good, like he was finding every sensitive spot at once, and she was coming, slow, deep, rolling waves that spread from her cunt to her toes and back again. He kept moving his fingers inside her, those slow waves cresting inside her again, and she sucked on his bottom lip to keep from wailing. And still, he kept stroking her through her orgasm, his breath harsh in her mouth. “Oh _gods,”_ she tore her mouth away and gave a quiet whimper against his neck. “Jaime, _what—”_ He pulled her lips back to his, and suddenly, she was coming again again _again_ _oh._ She panted soft, shuddery breaths against his neck as he slipped his fingers from her. _“Jaime.”_

She felt Jaime’s hand against her own, fingers still wet from being inside her. She could feel his cock beneath her fingers, hard and straining. “Brienne, _please,”_ he whispered, bucking against her hand. She fumbled, suddenly clumsy, undoing his button and zipper, pulling his cock out into the cool air of the theatre. He hissed into her neck as she traced along his length, finding the tip a little wet. She loved feeling him like this, loved the contrast between the velvety skin, how thick and hard he was when she grasped him in her palm.

_“Fuck,_ Brienne,” Jaime breathed out. He sounded so needy, a fresh wave of arousal running through her as she thought about dropping to her knees, taking him into her mouth, feeling him twitch against her tongue. She wrapped her fingers around him, and she quickly pressed her mouth to his to quiet his sudden groan. She ran her tongue gently over his upper lip, moving her fist up and down his cock, giving a firm twist of her wrist at the base.

“I want to fuck you so _bad,”_ he muttered, his lips brushing hers as he made his confession, bucking up into her hand.

_Gods,_ yes, she wanted that too. “We can’t, not here,” she murmured half-heartedly, squeezing him once more, rubbing her thumb over the head of his cock.

“That photo booth in the lobby might work,” he gasped out.

“Maybe,” she whispered back, feeling herself clench at the thought of his cock filling her, moving inside her. “Not ‘til you come for me.” Jaime loved when she talked dirty to him, and even though she always felt faintly ridiculous, she tried. She could see the tendons in his neck, his jaw tense, his eyes clenched shut. “Come so hard,” she murmured in his ear, “like you made me come.” He nodded quickly, one of his hands fisted in the hair at the nape of her neck, just as she felt the telltale pulsing of his cock. She smothered his groan with a kiss as she felt him spurting over her hand, shuddering through the end of his orgasm.

_“Gods, Brienne,”_ he breathed out, as she felt him begin to go limp in her hand. Jaime hissed as she let him go, using her clean hand to dig in her pocket for a napkin. She wiped off her fingers before folding the napkin over and wiping him off, tucking him back into his pants and doing up the zip. She smiled at him shyly, wondering if she’d ever get used to him looking at her like that, like she was everything he wanted. He gave a slow, lazy smile back, cocking an eyebrow and jerking his head towards the exit. She nodded and glanced at the older women still seated in the front row. They seemed oblivious to anything other than the musclebound lug on the screen who seemed to have lost his shirt.

They crept down the stairs, neither making a sound, Jaime’s hand warm around hers. He pulled her close as the door to the theatre closed behind them, his lips finding her ear. “I was serious about that photo booth,” he murmured, and she couldn’t help a snort of amusement.

“Oh Jaime,” she sighed, shaking her head and grinning at him. “I think you know that’ll be Round Never.” He gave her an exaggerated pout, which she couldn’t resist kissing. “But if you take me home and do that thing you just did to me again, I’ll probably make it worth your while.” She felt that clenching, pulling sensation again as his tongue glided over his lower lip, lovely green eyes lighting up.

“Well, wench,” he purred. “What are we waiting for?”

**Author's Note:**

> They’re not keeping track anymore, but I still am, apparently. I’ve determined that my relationship with Seven Rounds could best be described with a .gif from Brokeback Mountain of whatshisface saying “I just can’t quit you!” 
> 
> Someone make me this. I'm begging you. Make it all worthwhile.


End file.
